


per aspera ad astra

by MidnightSun



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect - Various Authors, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU where Miranda gets her way, Alternate Reality, And becomes a crime boss in the underbelly of Omega, And it really fs her up, Archangel operates, At the same time, Divergent ME2 timeline, Explicit language warning, F/M, Lots of Angst, PTSD, She loses her mind to madness, Shepard remembers every choice she could have made in the entire mass effect triology, TW: Drug Abuse, TW: suicidal thoughts, and Shepard is implanted with the control chip, post ME1, tw: depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightSun/pseuds/MidnightSun
Summary: When Cerberus implanted the control chip, they could never have imagined that its effects would cause Shepard to lose her mind.Broken, scarred, confused, and with no recollection of her past identity, she somehow finds herself alone in the dangerous back alleys of Omega. Forced to eke out a living, and with nowhere and nobody to turn to, a newly deranged and hurt Shepard turns to crime to make ends meet.Almost two years ago, Garrus Vakarian came to Omega, his sights set on fighting crime. He builds a team, earns himself the nickname ‘Archangel’, and vows to rid of the virulent mercenary gangs.[prev title: oh, wonder]A bit of a slow burn
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Minor Female Shepard/Kaidan Alenko
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. in which Shepard rises from the dead

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in years! I feel like I probably rambled a lot, but this idea just hit me and I HAD to write it. I was listening to Lonely Star by Oh Wonder and Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine on repeat while writing this, I love space romance vibes.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

In the end, she lay among the stars.

Feet treading at nothing, her hands desperately clawed at her mask, trying to find the leak. The HUD had suffered a crack down the middle and flashed red. Her breath came in loud and hot and fast, steaming up the hairline fractures along the glass, using up too quickly the last of her precious oxygen.

Around her, the ship fell apart in slow motion, the hull swallowed by silent, blinding explosions. She could feel the heat through her suit, and spiralling debris, propelled by the blast, left deep gashes in the metal of her armour and her skin underneath. Adrenaline warded off the pain.

She thought she could make out the escape pods, little glints of silver flying starbound, somewhere beyond this warzone. _They’re safe_ , she thought, with overwhelming relief, _thank god they’re safe_.

The adrenaline wore off and slow horror set in.

 _I’m going to die_ , she realised numbly. _After everything, this is how I die._

The sounds of her thumping heartbeat and laboured gasps were replaced by her suits warning beeps and cool feminine voice, made reedy and faint by the lack of air.

 _“Oxygen levels critical. Breach detected;_ ” the suit told her. _I know,_ she thought back, _I know, I know, I know._

She spun, colliding with debris, seeing stars, the planet, the sun – so far away, barely a blip in the dark expanse ( _how big this system is_ , she found herself wondering) – then stars again, this planet, the sun. _This is the last thing I’ll ever see._

The HUD flashed once more and turned itself off.

The fear numbed, as she began to lose consciousness.

The blinding white expanse of Alchera was beautiful. Though her eyes blurred from a lack of oxygen, she thought she could make out little rivers and lakes and mountains of snow. _Not somewhere Garrus would like much_ , she thought absently. _Nor Wrex._

A sliding collision turned her to face the never-ending expanse of the galaxy. A sea of stars at her feet, as far as the eye can see, countless constellations, innumerable lives. Friends. Family. The war. She wished that she could have seen that to the end.

 _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you_ ; she told the cosmos.

*

*

*

It stormed on Earth the day they held the memorial. Grey thunderclouds brooded over torrential rain. In the weeks following the news, a statue had been built in her honour, and today, the raindrops streamed like tears down her stony face.

Her friends mourned. People from across the galaxy attended, conjugated in a sea of black umbrellas. Throughout her life, she had touched many lives and helped many more, and they had come for their final goodbyes.

The remaining onboard crew put up placards of the names of those lost with the _Normandy_. The rain turned the grey marble slick and the fingers holding them cold and red.

Her parents stood at the forefront, Captains Shepard, alongside Captain Anderson and the Admiral. Words were said and speeches were made about her good deeds, her pure sense of morality – “ _she was a true hero,_ ” – their voices almost swallowed entirely by the wind and rain.

Beyond the willows, Garrus listened numbly and didn’t move to brush off Liara’s comforting hand on his shoulder. He accepted Tali’s hug but didn’t reciprocate beyond a mindless pat on her back. His mind had stopped reeling, but in its place, was a dull, constant, throbbing emptiness.

“It’s hard to believe she’s really gone,” breathed Liara shakily. “It… it doesn’t feel real.”

Tali hugged herself, head hung low. “I- _oh_ …” she began, stopping to bite back a sob, “just… oh, _Keelah. Poor_ _Kaidan_.”

Garrus watched them. He felt like a shell. The emptiness was threatening to engulf him whole. At some point, he found himself walking through the crowds ( _they never seemed to come to an end)_ , rain soaking his clothes and making them slick and uncomfortable against his skin, bile on his tongue, feet leading him wearily down some unknown path. He found the thought _, let me be where you are_ , rising out of nowhere, unbidden, and quickly stifled it.

 _It’s not what she would have wanted_ , he told himself, and believed it.

*

*

*

The first time Shepard opened her eyes after her death, she felt immeasurable pain. She woke, screaming and weeping, and after the seconds it took for her to recall her final moments, she realised that she must still be dying in space. She tore her eyes open, sore with grit, and was blinded by the whiteness of the room. Her sobs turned into gasps, and slowly, she noticed the bandages on her body, the strange coolness of the metal table she laid on, and the sounds amplified to deafening by her adrenaline induced state.

There was an unfamiliar man in a white lab coat in the room hushing her. Shepard’s heart leapt and she reached for the non-existent pistol at her hip but clutched at empty air instead.

“Calm down,” he said, soothingly.

She instantly felt calm, despite the prickling sense of foreboding on her sore skin.

“Where-,” she began, throat dry and sore with misuse, and at the same time, the man said: “don’t talk.”

- _am I,_ she tried to say, but she found that her voice was gone. Her mouth clammed shut.

“Lie down,” the man instructed, and she complied, forcing her aching muscles down.

“Go to sleep,” he said. And she did.

*

*

*

Her brain must have been torn up by the fall because she remembers:

_Putting a gun to his temple and pulling the trigger. A dazed expression on a familiar face. She seethed. Never fucking liked him much anyway. That’s what you get – you know – for what you did to me on Hor-_

_We kiss on a bed. He’s illuminated by the blue behind him. I tell him I love him. His skin feels rough against my lips. He whispers it back-_

_-had to be me. I don’t want you to do that. Wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ll get you, old man. Never liked aliens. Turn your back on me? Stop you if I must? We’ll see if that’s such a wise-_

_She shoots Anderson. There’s blood in one eye. She has to squint. Aim and fire. Feels sick, but she had to do it. Her mind is black-_

But that’s not right.

_*_

_*_

_*_

When she woke next, she was strapped to a bed. She couldn’t move. There were binds everywhere, and something around her head. _There was something_ inside _her head._

They told her: “don’t make a sound,” so she screamed silently. “Don’t struggle,” so she hung limp.

She didn’t know if she was lying down or standing up, she couldn’t tell whether the spinning was inside her head, or all around.

 _Where am I? Who are you? What’s happening? What are you doing?_ The words formed and were lost somewhere inside her brain. There was a black hole there, huge and gaping, sucking everything in. She tried to move, but it had a soundless voice; it said: _don’t you fucking dare._

They released her arm, and it drooped, a dead man’s weight. There were a lot of people, all around, peering, humans. Clipboards and white coats, prodding, fingers on her brain.

“What’s your name?” one of them asked.

“Shepard,” she managed, barely more than a whisper, sandpaper in her dry throat.

They noted it down.

“How old are you?” they asked.

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

More tapping on datapads.

“Make a fist,” somebody said, and she tried to tell them: _it told me not to fucking dare and besides, I’m in a whole world of pain,_ but her hand lifted, scarred skin, broken bones begging to stop and formed a clenched fist. Her index finger was missing.

 _This is it,_ she thought to herself, _I’m really in hell_.

*

*

*

_She’s playing cards with Jack (who’s that?) and Ashley (isn’t she dead?). They’re both really good, but she’s better. Just wait ‘til she shows her hand, just wait-_

_-the biotic girl dies because Shepard didn’t do enough. “The crew isn’t loyal enough to you,” Jacob had warned, and she had dismissed him. He always said stuff like that. That’s funny. She doesn’t know a Jacob._

_-I’m in a corridor full of corpses. It’s red. Why is it red? Is it the blood? It hurts. I’ve been here before. Or have I? Oh, it hurts. I did good? Did I do alright? Nobody has called me child in a long time. Not since-_

_Goodbye, dearest friend. Kalahira, mistress of the inscrutable, wash my sins and guide you. You won’t be alone for long-- (she was right)--_

*

*

*

The third time she woke up, That Man had come to see her. Fuck that man, she _hated That Man._ She couldn’t place how she knew him, but the sight of him made her feel sick to the core.

“ _Fuck you!”_ she screamed, blood boiling. “You killed him! You betrayed us! You _fucker!_ I’ll kill you!”

 _Huh_ , he had the nerve to look surprised, cigarette frozen in mid-air, halfway to his mouth. Then he took a blue puff.

 _Oh,_ she realised at once. _It’s just a hologram. It makes sense. I saw him die. I shot him._

“Rot in hell!” she said anyway.

He turned his blue eyes onto The Woman in the room. “How did this happen?”

She noticed The Woman for the first time (or maybe it’s the millionth – she didn’t know). For a second, she _knew her name_. “ _M-,_ ” but it died on her lips. The memory of her skirted around the edges of her brain, a skittering pyjak ( _remember shooting those on Tuchunka? Of course not – I’ve never been to Tuchunka_ ) before disappearing.

“An unpredictable side effect from an interaction between the chip and the memory extraction, sir. It appears that she’s hallucinating.” The Woman responded crisply.

She stared at The Woman, confused. She felt as though she’d known her throughout a thousand lifetimes. She had been there while she flourished and died a million times over, the rise and fall of a dying sun. A million fractals into one. Her heart told her that she cared about her, but it also said that she was an enemy, a spy, a friend, then a confidant and-? _She should be dead_ , she thought, _I was a bad leader,_ and then: _no, she survived. I made sure-_

“What’s real?” she found herself begging. “What’s true?”

The Woman just stared at her, almost as though she didn’t remember a fraction of what Shepard ( _is that my name?_ ) knew.

“Orders, sir?”

“She’s spewing nonsense. Restart the process,” That Man replied. Shepard felt her blood begin to boil again. Profanities bubbled to the surface, only to sink under, as she fell unconscious again.

*

*

*

_God. Why is everyone dying around me? God. His blood is on my hands. Why am I the only one left? The rumble in the earth, legs shaken to jelly. It’s coming back. How did we end up in its nest? Why would someone put a distress beacon here of all-- god, I just saw them all die. Now it’s my turn. I wish I’d -_

_Her parents died long ago, and she wanders the wastes of the streets. She feels the weight of the bag heavy on her back with every step. Street rats like her have no future, do they? Overhead, a spacecraft departs in the night sky. She watches the stars, twinkle diminished by pollution. Somewhere, out there, might be a place for her. Let me go there, she wishes aloud-_

_She’s standing outside of the shuttle, Cortez (who?) is calling her in. A billowing red dust storm, watching Earth fall apart. How did it get to this?_

_Her parents just died right now. She’s sixteen. The garden planet of Mindoir is on fire. They’ve pillaged their colony and set fire to their fields. Everyone is dead. She can’t believe this is happening. She was sowing wheat on those fields with her mother only yesterday. The fire is red against the windows. She hides in the bushes and chokes on hot air. She can’t believe this is-_

*

*

*

“Did we win the war?” she croaked out. “Did we destroy them?”

The Woman watched her carefully, eyes cool and calculating, appraising. “You defeated Sovereign and Saren, yes,” she began after a pause. “What’s the last thing you-?”

“Not Sovereign,” she gasped. “The reaper war, you remember, right-?” Her breath caught on her name. It was just on the tip of her tongue. “They almost destroyed Earth-- they came through the relay. I was up on the Cru- the Citadel. So much death, so many bodies, everywhere. Anderson, he-- I died; I think. Did we win? What happened? Please-”

The Woman just stared at her, eyes unfamiliar, unrecognising. _She thinks I’m crazy_ , she realised. _I think I am too._

“What year is it?” The Woman asked.

“21-,” she began, but realised that she wasn’t so sure. _Her parents just died, right? They just died in the raid, or they’re alive right now, both doing well, Captains, probably mourning her death, or they passed during childbirth – her uncle left her at the orphanage, and she’s sixteen._ She’s sixteen, she thinks, _and I am going to join the Alliance in two years._ “2170,” she said with certainty.

The Woman moved to put her back under. Suddenly, the fear grounded her.

“No,” she breathed. Then, more desperately, “ _No!_ I don’t want to go back there. Don’t make me remember. I don’t want to remember. Make it stop, _please_. Stop it. Stop, _stop-!_ ”

“What is she talking about? What’s she remembering?” There was another scientist in the room. And another. An army of white lab coats.

“I don’t know. We’ll try once more.”

*

*

*

_She was too late. He got her. Ori. I’m sorry, Miranda. If only I had come sooner. I should have trusted you. I’m so sorry-_

_-light of the main battery makes him glow red. She watches his deft fingers dance on the wiring, and she leans on the workbench, playing idly with a half -finished mod. She’s laughing but she can’t remember why right now. He’s laughing too, and flashes a smile at her, shaking his head._ Vega did what? _He says. He’s feigning hurt and shock, but she can hear the teasing tone in his voice. She knows him so well._ Do I have to have a word with him about staying away from my-- _his what? This is so normal. Her heart swells with happiness. Maybe the memories aren’t so-_

_-he falls, hole in his head. She’s screaming. Her blood runs cold. She doesn’t want to go, but they’re coming. Wasn’t he just alive, just now? This cave. The room stinks of blood and decay. The walls are slicked with grime. He’s got a hole in his head. His brains are on the floor. His blood splattered on her face. But she has to move. Fuck. The mission comes first, after all. How did this happen? How could this happen? People are shouting for her to move, so she does. Even if everyone else dies (and they will die, she knows it),_ she _has to do this. Fuck, she has to do this. His dead body is behind her. Hole in his head. Suppress it, feel the pain later. The mission comes-_

_-Tali’zorah is going to jump off the cliff. She runs to catch her. She doesn’t know how it got to this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But she’s gone. And so is that geth. Which geth? The Legion of geth? Weren’t they meant to help eachother? How could this happen-_

_-now she’s playing Skyllian Five with Tali, Vega and Cortez. She sighs with defeat and gives Vega the rest of her chips. She’s always sucked at cards. Don’t know why she bothers, really-_

_She shoots Vega in the head. (Alright, for the last time, who the_ fuck _is Vega?) Give me back my fucking chips, she’s screaming. Who the fuck are you? Where am I? Tell me where I am,_ tell me where I am-

*

*

*

Everything feels wrong.

 _Her memories feel like a corrupted data file, playing over and over again with so many variations, it leaves her dazed. She remembers people as alive, dead, and everything in between. In one memory, she loves them, and strives to fiercely protect them, and in the next, she’s apathetic, and doesn’t care, all at the same time. She sees a red sky full of reapers, an entire army, black entities, destroying everything. In each memory, thousand times over and over, she finds herself dying, unable to find out whether her sacrifice was ever worth it. She’s in places she’s never even been before. She talks to behemoths under the sea, and the memory threatens to split her skull in two. She let her whole unit die on Torfan. She’s never been to Torfan. She survives on her own in Akuze, it leaves her scarred with nightmares. But then, she’s a war hero too, all at once. She kills Kaidan, then Ashley, then shoots Wrex. Then she kisses Kaidan, and her love for him is so fierce, until he breaks her heart while they’re both on a planet she’s never been to. She both shoots him in the head and doesn’t, even though she remembers him dying already before, on Virmire. She shoots an old Salarian in the back. She’s never met him, but she knows he doesn’t deserve it._ It had to be me _; he says._ Who are you? _She asks back._

_In other memories, she doesn’t even look at Kaidan. Bits of her have no room for romance. And sometimes, she finds herself waking up in bed with Liara. “I love you,” she says, and parts of her feel it so strongly, it hurts._

_More often than not, she sees Garrus. In her infinite memories, he was there the most often. By her side, at her back. She traces blue markings with her hands and kisses him goodbye. Her lips come away blue, stained with blood. He dies too many times; she realises in horror. They all die so many times._

*

*

*

Somehow, she managed to stop responding to the commands. It took a Herculean amount of strength, but something had snapped. That black hole was eating up the rest of her brain. If any of these scientists tried to poke their filthy fingers in there again, they’d lose them. _Try it!_ She goaded. _Try it, go on!_ She laughed jaggedly, like broken glass. The scientists jotted that down.

“Make a fist.”

Shepard struggled, sweat beaded on her forehead, stinging her eyes. With great effort, gritted teeth and shaking hands, she managed to keep her middle finger up.

“ _Fuck… you!_ ” she managed, through forced breaths. She smiled, victorious. “I… am… not… a _puppet_!”

The scientists begun to mutter among themselves in worry. The laughter bubbled up and erupted in hysteria.

*

*

*

Oh, the memories made her grit her teeth and writhe in bed. If her arms were free, she’d tear at her hair. She wanted to stop remembering. The black hole said: _you did all of these things_ , but these were awful things, so she just wept.


	2. in which Shepard wishes she just stayed dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning the plot for this very diligently, and I'm really excited to share this story with you guys! As I write and proofread, I might make some some minor-ish changes and stuff, as this is very much a WIP, but I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I do!

The next time she opened her eyes, she knew Miranda. And she knew _him._

The scientists limped from the room, cradling injured body parts. _That’ll teach them_ , she thought furiously, a dangerous pride welling in her chest. _Did they forget that I’m still a biotic?_

( _Or is she an engineer? She specifically remembers telling Toombs (who’s that? He’s dead? Why?) that she always secretly wished she had biotic powers – but – what was that blue light, then? What’s going on?_ )

Their controls weren’t working. She was like an _unshackled AI_. Like – _who?_

“She’s completely unstable, sir. We have taken several CAT scans. Grey matter has entirely overgrown the ports for the data probes. Any further tinkering may cause irreparable brain damage.” It was Miranda. She frowned, the cold setting in her stomach. _But Miranda is dead._

“It’s alright,” said the Illusive Man, the disappointment clouding his face. “A shame, but this is exactly why we made spares. Lawson, get rid of this one.”

“Yes sir.”

“Keep the parts intact.”

“Of course, sir.”

A uniformed soldier wheeled her metal bed after Miranda. She watched her back. Every bump and irregularity on the floor sent a shockwave of pain down her spine. Her eyes began to tear, cloudy memories resurfacing. _I’m so sorry Miranda_ , she thought, clasped in the vice of another bitter memory. _I should have come sooner. Your sister…_

They arrived in the room; the doors slid shut and the lock turned red.

The guilt was overwhelming. She stared at the other woman’s profile, seeking out the features of her face that reminded her of her sister. Softly, she whispered, “I’m sorry about Oriana.”

Miranda froze. She snapped around, her eyes fleetingly wide with uncharacteristic shock, before she carefully schooled her expression into a neutral one. With a quick nod, she motioned for the soldier to leave.

“You sure, ma’am?” The soldier wavered uncertainly at the door. “She’s been unstable and violent so far, and—”

Miranda shot him a withering look.

“Where did you hear that name?” she asked when she was sure that they were alone. Her voice was clipped. Shepard could see the tremor of her hands as she picked up a needle.

“When we met at the Citadel,” she began softly. “I should have trusted you. I didn’t listen. I was a fool. She was just a kid. She didn’t deserve that.”

Her face was carefully guarded, but her fingers shook. Her other hand came to sheath the needle with a loud click before setting it down with a rattle on the table.

“I’ll ask you again,” she said coldly, face contorted in anger. “ _Where did you hear that name?_ Who are you?” Her eyes suddenly widened in understanding, and she hissed, “ _did my father send you?_ ”

“ _No!_ ” she reeled with the accusation. “What are you talking about? I tried to save her _from_ your father, Miranda.” Her mind was a haze. Was she even telling the truth? Right and wrong, light and dark, life and death all merged together into one messy conglomerate. In her mind, Oriana was both alive and dead.

“I’ve seen you die, Miranda. You should be dead. I think I am dead. Is this the afterlife?”

As the words left her mouth, she found a moment of clarity. She was _losing her mind_. The realisation filled with more terror than anything else.

Miranda surveyed her with her cold blue eyes, and Shepard could visibly see her process a million racing thoughts. “ _I’m an excellent judge of character,”_ she remembered her saying ( _did she really say that?_ ).

“We’ll talk later,” Miranda said finally. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

She didn’t wait for a response. The prick in her thigh was excruciating, and then suddenly, it was all over.

As though listening from underwater, she heard: “ _Lawson reporting in. Subject Alpha has been neutralised_ ,” and then--

*

_Her vision clouds over. The pain ebbs away. She is back in space, weightless and free. She flies through the emptiness, a lonely star, looking for another. She finds him after aeons. He was waiting there all along, she just needed to look. A flash of colour in the stark cosmos. A luminous supernova. He smiles and takes her hand._

_“Thanks for coming back,” he says._

_“You’re in my memory every time,” she replies. “Of course, I came back.”_

_“No me without you,” he says quietly._

_“No me without you,” she echoes. Oh, how beautiful the universe was._

*

*

*

She came to, in the artificial light of a docking bay. She was momentarily comforted by the sounds of her surroundings. The loud release of air and mechanical beeps as each shuttle was primed for dispatch. The clatter of weapon mods and armour. Vega and Cortez’s loud banter. She smiled. _Lola,_ Vega said, _Lola, who do you think is right? Esteban keeps saying that space fish tastes like chicken, but I don’t know what kind of chicken he’s eating, ey? I’m getting a bit of a beef flavour, personally._

She opened her mouth to reply, a sarcastic quip ready – but then, came the plunge back to reality.

She was immediately wide awake, heart pumping. She’s _never met these people before_. Whose memories were these? _Who was in her head?_

The docking bay was sparsely lit, and empty. No shuttles were being primed. She laid on the floor.

“You’re awake.”

“Miranda,” she breathed. She tried to sit up but found that her arms and legs were bound. Her body was shaky, sore, and her right arm was numb from lying on it. _How long had it been since she last died?_

“Talk fast, and I won’t kill you.” Miranda wasted no time, mouth was set in a straight line, and a grim expression on her face. She cocked her pistol up towards Shepard, finger resting firmly on the trigger. “Speak. How do you know Oriana? Who sent you? Explain yourself.”

She stared down the barrel, a million memories slowly flooding back, the longer she was awake. Her heart ached, already missing the fleeting peace.

“How did you do that?” she asked, with wonder. “I haven’t managed to sleep like that for a long time. I forgot everything.” Then, with hopeful trepidation, “can you do that again?”

“How about first you answer my question?”

“I-,” she began, and hesitated. Where to start? How could she even know what the beginning was? She wracked her brain, trying to come up with the first memory she had of Oriana, but the memories seemed to span an impossible amount of time. Centuries worth of conversations and thoughts pass like quicksand through her head. She groaned, a slow migraine worming its way behind her eye sockets. There was a slow hysteria building up inside her chest, but she suppressed it.

Miranda waited, unwavering.

Slowly, Shepard began. She started with the details she remembered the most vividly: she recounted the sisters’ deaths, and the multiple variations of them and worked her way backwards. If Miranda was disturbed, she didn’t let on. She talked about the Illusive Man, their meetings on the Citadel, Cerberus, Niket, all the way back to Illium. She faltered, sometimes remembering details she left out, going back to add them in, creating a spiderweb of memories. Miranda didn’t interrupt, settling on a cargo box, still gripping her pistol, listening with quiet intent.

After what seemed like hours, she stopped, voice almost gone, throat dry and sore.

They sat in silence, Miranda observing the glint of her pistol mod in the light, in quiet, thoughtful contemplation.

“So,” she began finally. “You’re saying that the data extraction has somehow enabled you to see the future, and also an apparently infinite number of possibilities. Hm.” She looked up at Shepard, watching her carefully.

“You don’t believe me?” She breathed.

“I believe that you believe it. And I have to add, you’ve described things in such realistic detail, that it makes me want to believe it. You’d have had to been observing me for quite the while to pick up on some of the things you’ve mentioned, and I don’t think you could have managed a fraction of that without it coming to my attention.” She paused. “Though it certainly sounds grim, this future you’ve painted for us.”

“You don’t always die.”

“I suppose we don’t. I never anticipated a one hundred percent survival rate in this line of work. And I’ve done my best to keep Ori out of danger, but…” she sighed. “And if it were just a well spun lie, I doubt you’d paint yourself so poorly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Consider me partially convinced, Shepard.” She finally holstered her pistol, leant back and folded her arms. “On the same note, I should thank you, if you truly did do some of the things you said you did.” She gave Shepard a small smile. Her first one. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what we’ve done to you, too.”

Shepard smiled back.

“The control chip was you, wasn’t it?”

Miranda paused for a heartbeat before nodding. “It was.”

“I remember you mentioned it. And I heard you tell the Illusive Man, that you put in whatever is fucking with my head, too.”

There was a deep, boring knot at the pit of her empty stomach. It pulsed with hope and desperation to every beat of her hammering heart. She licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry.

“You see—”

“In that case,” she cut in, unable to keep the rising hysteria out of her voice. “In _that case,_ I don’t suppose you can get this—,” She felt every vicious word spill out and grow louder, her throat screaming in protest, “– _fucking demon out – of – my – head!?_ ”

To her credit, Miranda hadn’t looked as surprised upon hearing about the death of either herself or her sister as she did now. Her eyebrows almost touched her hairline, she took a step back and her fingers twitched at her pistol.

Shepard lunged forwards and screamed in cold fury. The eye of the storm had passed. The memories were back in full swing. She felt feral. “ _I’ve had enough playing HOUSE, Miri. We’ve talked nice for long enough. Who let you fuck with my brain? Tell me now if you can fix it or not. If you can’t – then do me a FUCKING favour, pick up that pistol, and shoot me IN THE FUCKING HEAD_.”

“Shepard, I—," she frowned, reaching out her hand. Her other hand scratched at her collar, a tell-tale sign of distress that Shepard had come to recognise. She loathed it right now.

“ _Don’t fucking call me that,_ ” she snarled. _“_ Don’t call me Shepard like you _know me_ when I don’t even know myself! Can you do it, or can’t you? _It’s a very simple question!_ ”

“Sh— it’ll take time. I need to research it. We don’t even know how this happened. But I assure you, this will be a top priority. I don’t want to share what you’ve divulged with the Illusive Man, but with the equipment at my disposal, I’ll ballpark a solution to be under a few months.”

Shepard bared her teeth. The ends of her matted hair were in her eyes and they stung. She didn’t care. She leaned heavily on her bruised arms, considering it, mulling it over in her head. Thinking, and thinking—

_\-- a hole in the back of his head – the salarian doctor kneels in a pool of his own blood – “goodnight,” she tells her, as she slit her throat – her eyes quivering as they met her own – the glint from the blade of her omnitool in the dark – into his back, blue ichor –-_

She gasped. She felt the beading sweat on her brow and swallowed. The dark pit in her mind writhed, alive, the shape of a slug. “I don’t want it.” The words left her mouth before she even realised it. She swallowed again. Her mouth was so dry. “It has to be now, or not at all. I can’t wait that long.”

Miranda rubbed at her neck again, brows furrowed. The skin was beginning to turn red. “Your psyche profile described your resolve as infallible. You’re a soldier. Surely—”

“I can’t fight something _I can’t see._ I can’t fight something that’s _living_ _inside my skull_. If you were truly sorry, you’d end this _right now._ ” She stared at the pistol at her hip, greedily. Then she looked up. “What does it matter to you whether I live or die, anyway? I’ve told you everything. I might know you, but you don’t even remember me. What does it matter?”

The other woman in the room began to pace. She stopped, with her back slightly turned to Shepard. She didn’t make eye contact. She began hesitantly. “As it is, if all of this is true and as you said, I may need your assistance in the future. For Ori.”

“There it is.” Shepard breathed shakily. “I see. So, this is what it all comes down to.” She leant back. Her eyes were bleary with tears. “You need me to do something for you.”

“If you really know me, then you know I’d do anything for Oriana. With everything you know, we can plan ahead this time. There needn’t be any mistakes. I can give Ori the life I wanted her to have.” She turned and her eyes glittered. “ _We_ can.”

“No.”

“But—”

“Just _take, take, take_.” Shepard laughed. “That’s all that anyone wants. I gave up everything to help everyone else, even my own life. Can’t I be selfish this one time? Maybe you’re not understanding me, Miranda, so let me spell it out for you. There is a fucking demon in my head, you put it in there, and _it’s eating me alive_.”

Miranda stilled.

“I’ve told you everything. You don’t need me.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard.”

“So, what am I? Insurance? Collateral?” Her voice raised to deafening in accusation. “What am I?”

“A few months,” said Miranda. “Just— wait.”

She snarled and screamed and struggled and kicked, but she was bound and injured, and she felt the effects of the sedative entering her system. _Not again_ , she thought, both furious and weary, as she slowly blacked out.

*

*

*

They wouldn’t tell her the destination, the two Cerberus agents who had been assigned to accompany her. She assumed they were sent to accompany her, anyway. They had been there when she woke; she could see them through the mesh wiring of the cargo hold.

They were identifiable by their uniforms, and she was the only thing inside the hold that wasn’t a shipment box containing MREs (she had kicked a few open in anger earlier). Who hires Cerberus agents to guard a food ration shipment? 

At first, when she had discovered that they wouldn’t speak to her, she had tried to occupy her mind to keep the festering memories at bay. She had mapped out the area, identified weak spots, and even sized up the two guards. She decided that, in her condition, the outlook wasn’t favourable for a successful escape. The room was small and filled with cargo, there were no windows, and a single, small air vent was blowing cold air high on the smooth walls.

Besides, her muscles ached, her bones felt like they could hardly bear her weight, and her artificial skin felt like paper stretched over a drum. There were heavy metal shackles around her bound wrists, and when she tried to summon her biotics, only a feeble blue spark came out. She chewed at her cheek, before resigning herself (only temporarily, she had told herself) to the cargo bay.

“How about some music in here?” she sighed, pressing her face against the mesh. “I’m going to go crazy with the silence.”

They ignored her, staring pointedly at the space behind her.

Shepard hummed absently to herself, her breath forming little white clouds. She shivered, watching the guards appraisingly. She was dressed in the same, or at least, similar white surgical gown she had woken up in, all those months ago _(has it really been months?_ ), and it didn’t provide much warmth, especially not for hanging out in an apparent food cellar, but the guards’ uniforms looked rather thin, too.

She tried again. “Cold in here, isn’t it? Those uniforms don’t look that warm. Typical Cerberus, don’t you think? Spending more on bringing dead crazy people back to life than stopping their own workers from freezing to death.”

The guard on the left chuckled. “Don’t we know—"

The other guard elbowed him, hard, and he stopped abruptly and winced.

“Ow,” he muttered, shooting him a reproachful glare.

“Lawson said no talking to Subject Alpha.”

Shepard snorted. “I have a name, you know. It’s—” she paused, breath hitching. “Never mind, _Subject Alpha_ is fine.”

She continued humming for a while. “I used to have a friend who used to go by Subject Zero, you know. Or she still does, I don’t know. I’m probably even in a very similar situation to her, right now. No wonder she was so fucked up – _is_ so fucked up. You guys fuck everything up.”

They didn’t respond.

“You know, if you don’t give me a coat, or heat mods or _anything_ , you’re going to need an ice pick to get me out, when we reach the destination. _If_ either of you still have any fingers left. Losing fingers sucks, by the way. I should know.” She waggled her new, cybernetic fingers for them to see.

Left guard blinked and the beginnings of a grin almost made its way onto his face, but he quickly corrected himself.

When they carried on ignoring her, she continued.

“Sooooo… how’d you get this job? Mess up big, somewhere? What did you fellas _do_ to make Cerberus demote you to babysitting, anyway?”

“Shut up,” snapped the guard on the right.

“Yikes, hit a nerve.” She leant against the wall. “So, what are your names?”

No reply.

“Then, what do I call you? Miranda said it was going to be months, didn’t she? I can’t just keep calling you Guard one and Guard two.” A long pause. “Alright, I’ll give you names, then. You can be called Dopey, and you’re Grumpy, like the dwarves. Because you’re grumpy. And an asshole. I can call you asshole instead if you like?”

Provoking them got dry after a while, and Shepard tried to distract herself in other ways. The constant artificial light made it difficult to determine how much time passed, but she felt the hole in her head writhe and grow larger and larger with every passing minute.

She paced the small room, looking around. In one corner, there were no boxes against the wall. A steel strip ran across, its surface smooth and shiny, and a reflection danced in the metal. She moved closer to inspect it.

Her heart stopped. There was a woman staring at her, with wild hair and the wide eyes of a crazy person.

She started screaming.

“What is it?” the left guard – Dopey demanded, startled, pulling out a handgun.

“There’s—there’s someone else in here, with me!”

The guards scrambled over, trying to get a view of what she was looking at, guns ready.

“—the fuck?” Grumpy frowned, after a second. “The reflection? That’s just you. Damn, this bitch is crazy.”

“That’s me?” She stared at the reflection. The woman stared back. She touched her face, fingers tracing over the dark bags underneath her eyes. The reflection did the same, bound wrists and all. “God…”

She didn’t recognise herself at all. She wracked her brain, trying to remember what she should look like instead, but she drew a blank. “God,” she repeated.

*

Hours must have passed.

“I’m hungry.” She complained loudly.

“You just ate—ow!” Dopey rubbed his side again.

“Being held captive and tortured is very energy consuming.”

They seemed to have decided to go back to ignoring her at this point, so she sighed and looked around. _Good thing I chose a food shipment to get locked into_ , she mused.

With no small effort, she opened an MRE, and sniffed it. The smell made her nose wrinkle, but her mouth watered all the same. “Bon appetit.”

“Hey, those aren’t—” Dopey sighed, but then conceded with resignation. His hand shot up pre-emptively to cover his side.

A wicked smile crawled up on her face. She opened another one, taking only one bite. And again. And again. She watched him, provoking, daring. Grumpy rolled his eyes and looked away.

Then she stopped. She remembered—

_A cold night, starless sky, sitting, shivering on the streets of Vancouver, next to an empty park bench. An empty stomach. She hadn’t found a place to stay that night. Her stomach growled and twisted in pain—_

She quieted down and finished her half eaten MREs so none would go to waste.

*

She woke from the thralls of another nightmare to the shudder of a landing spacecraft. She sat up, immediately alert. Dopey and Grumpy were unlocking the wire door.

 _This is it_ , she realised with a shaky smile. _It’s been nice knowing you boys._

As Grumpy made his way into the room, she slowly stood up. Flexing her shoulders, she darted around his outstretched hand, slipping past him. He cursed loudly. Next, she barrelled into Dopey, who was in the midst of closing the door, knocking him over. Her entire body screamed in protest from the sudden strain.

“She’s getting—”

“I know that, idiot! Catch her!”

She sped down the wide corridor, as fast as her shaky legs could carry her, people and the doors to the other holds flashing past. At the end, was a dark light.

She pelted past a uniformed man, who quickly lept out of her way. He glanced back to look at where she had come from. “If you did anything to my shipment, you’re paying for the damages!” he yelled after her.

With Dopey and Grumpy hot on her heel, she ran to the lowering platform. They were on a landing pad, and men and women were at work, brushing past her, unloading cargo from the cruiser. To the distance, was a black skyline, stretching impossibly far, and high above where she stood, spindly metal projections hung from a stone ceiling instead of sky.

She smelt pollution and tasted smoke.

She didn’t even notice that the two guards had caught up with her, and had grabbed her arms, dashing her chances for escape.

“Omega,” she breathed.


End file.
